


Paint it Black

by Daisyflo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Meet-Cute, Neighbors, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, POV Rey (Star Wars), Sex on Furniture, laundry mix-up, sex on top of a drier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-30 17:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20451149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisyflo/pseuds/Daisyflo
Summary: Rey is sick of this stranger who keeps mixing his black laundry with her whites and decides to catch him red-handed. Only problem: Ben Solo is just as hot as he is guilty.





	Paint it Black

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to monsterleadmehome for beta'ing this and SpaceWaffleHouseTM for the moodboard!

This is the third time it happens-- but this time, she’s about to blow a fuse.

Of all the things that had happened today, this was absolutely the last thing Rey needed. First, she’d realized her bike had a flat tyre and had to run to be on time. Second, she’d forgotten her money at home, and the coffee machine at work didn’t give credits. Third, her train had been delayed, to the point that she’d had to skip both groceries and dinner. So of course, coming home to find her laundry completely bathed in black was the cherry on top of the terrible, rotten cake.

She’s pretty sure she didn’t mix anything with the pile of white this week, but considering the little sleep she’s been holding onto for the last few days… No, she couldn’t have. The only black clothes she owns are either jeans or underwear, and the shapeless thing she just extracted from her laundry is nowhere close to that. It’s elastic, charcoal black, and definitely not hers.

With a sigh, Rey tosses the pile of hostile clothing on top of the machine that’s out of service –it has been for years, now-- and puts her own in the dryer. She never uses it, it’s expensive and lasts forever, but hopefully, this’ll save what’s left of her working clothes. _Iron dry, Cool air, Cottons-_\- she has no idea which cycle is the best, so she selects _Delicate_, because her poor shirts could definitely use a little delicacy. The drier starts with a concerning roar, and Rey sits on top of her reversed basket as she stares at the hypnotizing spiraling.

About eighty percent of her white laundry has been ruined in less than a month. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, but because she’s tired and already in the red, Rey feels her blood starting to boil as she watches the lazy spiraling of the machine. She could distract herself by watching videos or playing those stupid games Finn downloaded for her, but her phone’s battery died hours ago and the room doesn’t have any outlets available. An awful day, really. She can’t wait to go to bed.

A minute passes, maybe two before she dares cast a glance at the dark, wet heap waiting on top of the dead machine. One time can be considered an accident, but three… she’s either dealing with a secret enemy or some dumb teenagers who think they’re being funny. Guilt instantly seizes her at the thought, and she remembers her own teenage years. It could definitely be someone who can’t afford washing powder-- though she wouldn’t mind giving them hers if they just _asked_. It could also just be a very rude neighbor, the building seems to have plenty. Before she can help it, Rey gets up from her basket and crosses the room, her eyes still fixed on the black pile. She shouldn’t, really, but her hand is already picking at it, sorting the now cold, wet clothes in hopes to identify their owner.

Nothing exceptional so far: several plain T-shirts, socks, a pair of jeans, something rectangular she identifies as a pillow case (who the fuck owns black pillow cases?), a couple more shirts and-- _oh_.

“Shit shit shit--”

Her cheeks are hot by the time she manages to toss the boxers away, and she turns to the door with the hope that nobody magically appeared in the last few seconds. No one has, of course; it’s past midnight, most people are asleep. She should be too; she has a meeting in the morning that she can’t miss under any circumstances. Lulled by the ambient white noise, Rey decides to trust the drier and climbs up to her apartment. The laundry room is three levels down from hers, but no one has ever stolen anyone’s laundry since she arrived.

When she comes back in the morning, her clothes are still here. They’re also very grey, and the black ones have disappeared.

“Fuckin-- _bummer_.”

She’s already late, but who cares, _her clothes are fucking grey_. Mumbling insults even she doesn’t fully understand, Rey goes through the contents of her handbag until she finds the notepad she should already be taking notes with. When her fingers finally close on a pen, she leans against the closest washing machine and frantically scribbles across the paper:

_PLEASE stop screwing up my laundry THANK YOU_

She makes sure the last words are underlined enough (three times) then adds a few exclamation points for shape and sticks it to the machine more brutally than necessary.

**\- - -**

Hours later, Rey is still brooding over the incident.

She shouldn’t be: years in the system have gotten her used to so much worse. She’s known poverty and a lack of intimacy, and yet these last few years of independence made her possessive and slightly materialistic. They were just clothes, but she’d bought them _herself_, with the money _she_’d earned. She doesn’t consider herself a bitter person, but this… This is about _respect_. And she’s a respectful person.

Which is why she left work early and is now hiding in the back of the laundry room, waiting for her nemesis to reveal their identity.

This time, she remembered to charge her phone and is actually thankful for it, because this was probably the worst idea she’s ever had. She’s been hiding for an hour now, sitting behind the door, and no one has showed up yet. Maybe they won’t: the accidents haven’t happened on a regular basis, and this isn’t her typical laundry day. She started a machine as a lure anyway, just in case. It’s almost seven now, shops are closing and she’s going to have to order something if she doesn’t want to starve to death, but her bank account is just as empty as her fridge. This truly was a bad idea.

Just when she’s thinking she should abort her mission and run to the minimarket, the door opens on a tall, wide figure that definitely can’t be a teenager. Unless it’s a very big one. She’s almost positive he’s a man, and gets confirmation when he steps into the light. Everything about him screams masculinity, from his powerful gait to the muscles straining behind the fabric of his shirt with each of his movements. She can’t see his face, but the span of his back makes her tremble. She almost finds herself wishing he wasn’t the person she’s looking for, and then remembers how people aren’t actually supposed to handle every problem with violence. Just because she had to learn to defend herself doesn’t mean she’ll have to use those skills. She keeps a hand close to her bag where she keeps pepper spray, just in case.

She’s about to declare him innocent when the stranger walks to the machine she started earlier. A second goes by, then two, and his thumb brushes the stop button way too casually. _Guilty_.

“You’re the laundry fucker.”

The machine opens in a swift motion and the room falls silent again. The shoulders of the stranger twitch a little as his face barely appears behind it. “I’m… not into that kind of thing?”

He hasn’t fully turned, but Rey catches a glimpse of the basket he’s holding and her heart makes a loop at how tiny it looks between his massive hands. A second loop follows as she hears his voice, and it takes a few more seconds for his words to register-- but as soon as they do, Rey remembers her initial anger and gets on her feet.

“Well, you fucked mine,” she declares, folding her arms on her chest for good measure. Just because his voice is surprisingly appeasing doesn’t mean she’ll surrender so easily. Still, she can’t seem to get a proper look at his face, which upsets her a little more.

“Again, not into laundry.”

His voice is as uncertain as hers, but she hears the hint of a smile in it. It shouldn’t make her want to come closer, but she does anyway. He still isn’t looking at her, it’s almost frustrating. In a last attempt to satisfy her curiosity, Rey takes the last steps separating them, leans against the machine and clears her throat.

Third time’s the charm.

“Oh.”

His lips are the first thing Rey notices: full, almost red and half-open in surprise. Their colour contrasts with how pale his skin is, highlighted by the darkness of his hair. At first she swears it’s darker than his sweater, but the reflection of the light emphasizes a subtle chocolate tint here and there that makes his waves look even shinier. He’s a strange combo of contradictions that somehow manage to work together in a surprisingly good way.

She almost forgets the evidence she’s brought, but remembers as soon as his eyes –_brown_, she notices- fall on the grey shirt she’s gripping at. It’s just what she needs to fall back into the mood she’d settled on.

“Oh indeed,” she confirms.

Neither of them makes a move, but his eyes keep studying her with worry. After what feels like an eternity, he finally looks away and opens his mouth again. “Er… sorry?”

His eyes switch back to meet hers with a hesitant frown. His embarrassment makes it hard for her to glare at him, so she settles for a straight face instead and grits her teeth.

“I sure hope you are, because this,” she mutters as she waves the t-shirt above her head in the most menacing posture she knows, “is mine. Just as the bunch of shirts you ruined doing whatever you’re doing. So yeah, you better be sorry and have a good excuse.”

The machine behind them starts beeping, but Rey doesn’t move an inch. After a long silence, the man in front of her lets out a long sigh and puts his basket on top of the machine.

“I… it’s going to sound stupid,” he warns, but Rey doesn’t flinch. Staring at him appears both easier and more difficult as time goes by, but she manages it somehow as he continues. “Well, all the machines are usually taken when I come home.” A brief, timid shrug shakes his large shoulders. “Also… I may have no idea how these relics work. I just moved.”

The corner of his bottom lip disappears as he bites it, and suddenly, he looks nothing like the beast Rey had envisioned: his features seem to have softened, making him look way younger than he probably is. Nervousness starts coloring his cheeks-- maybe he _is_ a teenager, after all. A teenager trapped in a giant’s body.

“It does sound stupid,” Rey approves after a moment. “I could… well, I guess I could help,” she adds. “Do mine earlier.”

A smile threatens to cross her lips at how red he’s turned. Despite his obvious shame, he looks up and finally meets hers eyes again. “That would be nice. I mean, great-- and I could just… wait until yours is finished.”

“Yeah, you could do that.”

If there’s a moment she could use to leave, this is definitely the one: anger has left her body, and she’s pretty sure she made a damn good and terrifying impression on this new neighbor. But for a reason that escapes her, her body is still very tensed, and her feet don’t feel ready to move just yet. He doesn’t seem about to leave either-- only his hands are moving, fingers fidgeting frantically in a way that is almost ridiculous for how tall he is. She finds it adorable.

“Or we could…” A bad idea crosses her mind, then her lips. “I do whites on Monday. Colours on Friday.”

It takes him a second to understand what she’s implying, but he quickly nods. “Might as well save some water.”

“And the planet.”

Their lips curl into small smiles at the same time.

“I’m Ben, by the way.”

_Ben_. She wouldn’t have named him like that. It suits him, though.

“Well… welcome to the building, Ben. I’m apartment 1138. Rey Johnson. If you ever need anything.”

He nods again, his cheeks almost back to their initial paleness. “Thanks. Rey. Johnson.”

With his cheeks turning crimson again, he runs a hand through his dark waves, giving Rey a good idea of how red the rest of his face is. His brow, his neck- even the tips of the ears, but Rey doesn’t say anything and keeps smiling. She’s never been a big fan of her name, but she might start liking it in his mouth.

“Just Rey is fine,” she murmurs.

A loud growl echoes from her stomach, breaking the new silence that has fallen over them. Right, she was hungry. Praying that the heat she feels on her cheeks doesn’t mean they’re as red as she thinks they are, she uses the second protest of her stomach as an excuse to leave, deliberately avoiding looking at him one last time.

The day after, she comes back home to a basket of dry, carefully folded laundry waiting at her door with a post-it on top of it.

_Have a good day_, the note says-- _Ben_

**\- - -**

The following weeks, Rey finds herself in a much better mood. Her job is still exhausting, she still barely gets enough sleep and her phone still won’t charge enough to last a day-- but she’s got something to look forward to when she comes back home.

Ben’s apartment is two floors above hers, yet she always finds him in the hall when she comes back from work. He’s usually checking his mailbox, though she once surprised him attempting to make incredibly awkward small talk with that old lady from the second floor. They never speak much, but he always has something nice or funny to say-- though the best jokes are reserved for the post-its.

They’ve managed to settle into a rather easy routine: Rey sets the machine ready before she leaves for work, and Ben takes care of the laundry when he comes back. Every time, he leaves her a note with beautiful handwriting-- and every time, her heart jumps a little.

There hasn’t been any other accident regarding the laundry’s colours; though after a month, a few items mysteriously start disappearing from her pile. Nothing important, really-- just an old t-shirt she sleeps in. Her first thought, irrational, is that Ben kept it, but her brain is quick to stop her: just because she thought about doing it herself doesn’t mean he did. So the idea remains dormant in a corner of her brain.

Until the day her favorite bra goes missing.

She shouldn’t think too much about it, she probably threw it behind the sofa one day and never picked it up. She’s lost countless pairs of socks because of such bad habits. Still, it doesn’t explain the mystery of her t-shirt.

Mental pictures of Ben sneaking her t-shirt into his laundry basket make it to her mind, and _shit, those are shivers. _She really shouldn’t be thinking too much about it-- except she does, and she _wants _to. The idea definitely doesn’t repulse her, and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t considered attempting something. Ben isn’t bad looking at all-- he’s actually _hot_. Inexplicably, unreasonably hot. The smiles he gives her every evening certainly doesn’t help getting him out of her head, and if she’s really being honest, she might have thought about him in more than one intimate situation. He’s handsome, she’s very much alone and, well, sometimes, sleep can take a long to come.

She shouldn’t think too much about it, so she chooses to act instead, and hurtles down the steps leading to the laundry room before reason catches her.

“Hey,” she breathes out tentatively when she opens the door.

The room is rather quiet, its silence barely broken by the lazy rustling of the many machines at work. It’s almost lulling, and Rey remembers why she loved spending some of her evenings here.

“Oh-- hey.” Another kind of rustling echoes across the room, and Ben closes his book to look at her. “I thought this was my shift?”

There’s visible confusion in his eyes, coupled with something Rey can’t quite put her finger on. “Yeah, but I think I lost something here.”

“Oh?”

His cheeks go red, followed by the tips of his ears, and Rey has to bite her lips to repress a smile.

“Yeah.” She closes the door behind her, then continues. “A t-shirt, and some… other things.”

Her footsteps echo around the room as she starts walking towards Ben, who immediately looks away. “I’m sure you’ll find it,” he shrugs as he opens his novel again. “Can’t have gone very far.”

Rey hums in approval, but doesn’t stop walking. His calm voice contrasts with his shifty eyes, and she might be nervous about it, but everything about him screams guilt and she’s not about to let him get away with it so easily. He’s clearly avoiding her, it’s frustrating how much he’s avoiding her-- so she goes closer, until he can’t look away anymore.

“Yeah?” he asks from behind his book.

“Maybe it got mixed up with your things.”

The tension in his hands makes the book tremble. “Maybe.”

His brown eyes are planted in hers now, dark and waiting. Rey doesn’t really know what they’re waiting for, but she doesn’t flinch and holds his gaze despite how hot her cheeks are getting. “Well, tell me if you find it?”

Ben’s jaw tenses a little. “Sure,” he manages to breathe between gritted teeth.

His eyes drop back to his book and don’t move an inch. He really is avoiding her, but for the first time since she arrived, Rey starts to wonder if she’s actually bothering him. Maybe she just made a fool of herself, walking like this, talking with such a honeyed voice. She shouldn’t have come here. She doesn’t know anything about him. Did she imagine the smiles? Maybe the post-its were just post-its. He could just be a very friendly person. He might as well be married and have five children, she might be hitting on a married man, he--

“Actually…”

“Yes?”

She doesn’t realize how quickly she’s replied until she sees the panic in his eyes. Slowly, he puts his book down and bites the corner of his lips.

“I think… I might have mixed it up with my things. Accidentally.”

Another silence falls around them, during which Rey desperately tries to calm her rapidly beating heart with the sheer force of her thoughts. His eyes are fixed on her, still waiting, and it’s taking her an insane amount of courage not to look away as she decides to take the next step.

“Maybe I can come over one day? To get it?”

Or he can drop it at her door. She knows he can. He knows it, too, but nods anyway, and she has to double her efforts not to run either away or at him. It’s like his look is intensifying with each passing second, and he’s going to kill her if he keeps looking at her like this. It might be a nice way to go, though.

“Rey?” _Her name in his mouth, again._ She can’t trust her voice right now, so she settles for an inquiring look as he draws closer, his voice deep and low. “It might not have been accidental.”

He’s so close to her, she can feel his breathing on her skin. Not a sound resonates except for the drier’s slow pounding next to them, but Rey is pretty sure her heart is drumming hard enough for Ben to hear it too. “You better have a good excuse,” she eventually manages to say.

The answer comes in a whisper. “I don’t think it’s a good one.”

A trail of shivers runs down her spine at the words, followed by a second wave when Ben closes the gap between them. It’s only a short distance, yet he seems to take an eternity to reach her lips. His lips barely brush hers at first, and it takes him forever to actually kiss her-- but when he does, it’s a whole new range of sensations Rey hadn’t prepared herself for.

His lips are soft, probably softer than hers, but also so hesitant it’s almost torture. He’s quick to pull away for air, and seems so unsure to go again that Rey takes the decision for him and crushes her lips against his. A surprised exclamation leaves him, immediately muffled as Rey fiercely intensifies the kiss. One hand lands on her waist, the other in her hair, and Ben finally relaxes his jaw as he returns the kiss with just as much fervor.

“So far so good,” Rey whispers against his lips.

A soft chuckle escapes him, and she feels her heart skip at how adorable it sounds. Before she gets the chance to mirror his laugh, his fingers tighten on a fistful of her hair, gently calling her back for another kiss, and she’s more than happy to oblige. His fingers graze her scalp just enough to make her shiver, with a grip way too gentle for a man with such strength. Soon enough, he’s kissing her with an open mouth, and it’s just what Rey needed to remember she has hands too, so she plants one on his chest, grabs his belt with the other and drags him closer in a swift pull. A small groan crosses his lips but he quickly follows and presses his chest against hers, then takes a few more steps until her back hits the drier with a thud.

The same idea seems to cross both their minds, and with Rey’s hand reaching the hood for support, Ben bends a little, slips his hands behind her thighs and hoists her up onto the machine with disconcerting ease. Their lips separate for a brief instant, then meet again the next. It’s impatient, a bit messy, and yet immensely satisfying. His hips hit the cold surface in another muffled noise, drawing a gentle giggle out of Rey that he quickly silences with another kiss.

Air sounds like the last thing she needs right now, and she’s almost suffocating when his tongue starts grazing her lips hungrily. She happily grants him the access he’s asking for and feels her entire body shiver at the new proximity this gives them. His hands are quick to fall on her thighs, spreading their warmth on her bare skin in the most delicious teasing way, encouraging her to tighten her grip on his belt. She can feel his smile against her and is about to kiss it when the drier starts vibrating beneath her.

“Shit--”

It isn’t as unbalancing as it is startling; still, her hands close around his biceps in a vain attempt to remain stable. Another chuckle leaves him, and Rey finds herself smiling against her will.

“Alright.” One of her hands move up to his chest, lightly pushing him. ”Stop laughing and help me.”

It’s like she’s just said something outrageous, because the second her legs move to the side, his hands grip her tighter and keep her in place. “No. Stay here. Stay.” He says it again as he presses his lips on her forehead, her temple, and ends his race in the crook of her neck with a light graze of his teeth. “It’s perfect.”

There’s something wild, untamed in the way he hurries his way on every parcel of exposed skin, like he’s afraid she’ll run away if he ever stops. And maybe it’s the adrenaline, the warm smell of his perfume or the result of weeks of repressed desire, but Rey doesn’t even think about stopping him. She’s so overwhelmed with sensations that she almost forgets about the vibrations until they stop, and the room seems more peaceful except for the little moan she emits when Ben parts her legs further.

“If someone walks in…” His hands go their separate ways, one behind her and the other slowly traveling up her leg, and the rest of the warning dies on her lips.

“We’re fucked,” he confirms with a voice that sounds both collected and about to falter.

In other circumstances, she would’ve laughed at the choice of words; but the only sound that crosses her lips is a soft gasp when his thumb finally reaches the apex of her thigh. His lips slow down with the kisses, and Rey is about to protest when his fingers move a few inches, reach the fabric between her legs and start stroking.

She’d noticed how big his hands and fingers were when he wrapped them around her waist, but to feel them _here_ is something else. His entire hand could cup her, and she has no idea why this sounds so appealing but it does. Somehow, the wildness he’s shown earlier seems to leave his body and settle in his eyes, darker than ever as they meet hers.

“Is that--”

“Yes,” she cuts him. “Don’t stop.”

A smirk curls his lips and sends her heartbeat to the roof, then he’s gone again. Even slightly out of breath, Rey manages to straighten up on the drier and maintain a semblance of balance as his face disappears in the crook of her neck. The moment his lips start sucking at her skin, his thumb follows up and start tracing small circles on her clit through her panties. He’s slow at first, then picks up his pace until she has to grit her teeth and clenches her fingers around his wrist as a warning.

“You’re so beautiful,” she hears him whisper in her ear.

His breathing is a bit shattered too, but he seems hungry for more when her eyes meet his again. They stare at each other for a few more seconds before his hands disappear under her dress and a trail of shivers run down her hips when he starts toying with the sides of her underwear. Without second thought, Rey reaches for it herself and slips out of the cotton fabric without breaking eye contact. When it reaches her knees, Ben bends down and takes over, pulling the underwear down her legs before casually tossing it away, his eyes not once leaving her.

“Can I kiss you there?” he asks, his lips hovering above her ankle.

The wildness she’d noticed in his pupils has turned into something more composed, but the tone in his voice betrays his impatience. Something in Rey tightens as she nods. Careful, Ben wraps his hands around her leg and plants a kiss on her skin. It shouldn’t be so sexy, she knows it-- but then again, everything he does seems made to tempt her. Before she can urge him to come back to her lips, his hands move up a few inches and his mouth follows, his warm breath tickling her calf.

“And there?”

She’s unable to reply with anything but another nod, and both her hands clench at the edge of the drier when his lips drop a longer kiss on her leg. He does it again on her knee, then on the other, and she’s pretty sure her whole body shudders when his lips press on the inside of her right thigh. His hair tickles her as he makes his way up to her mound, but this time he doesn’t ask and waits patiently, the look in his eyes a clear enough inquiry.

The answer leaves her in a breath. “Yes.”

His face disappears under her dress, and the next kiss leaves her all tense and hot, biting her lips in a vain attempt to suppress the moan threatening to leave her. Gentle and eager at the same time, Ben trails his hands up her hips and draws her closer to the rim, closer to _him_, and this time the moan does leaves her. He doesn’t flinch a bit and licks his way up her clit with just the right amount of pressure. She knew that mouth could work wonders, but she underestimated his tongue.

“Ben--” He silences her with a soft _shh_ that sends another wave of pleasure through her abdomen, and she’s pretty sure she feels him smiling. It’s not a bad sensation at all, especially followed by another lick. A series of curses fall from her lips, then another when his mouth closes around her.

What he’s doing right now has nothing to do with kisses anymore. It’s far from the hesitant touches she’s known in the past, far from anything she could’ve imagined and hoped for: he’s devouring her whole, lapping, sucking with such eagerness she’s barely able to process everything on time. It takes all her forces not to squeeze her thighs around his face when his tongue grazes her entrance, and even more when his nose presses against her clit.

His name leaves her mouth again, this time in a whisper. Soon enough, her vision blurs and she closes her eyes as she throws her head backwards, too lost in the sensations to even think about anything else than what he’s doing right now, and frustration starts tickling her as she realizes her hands can’t reach him in this position. And oh, how she wants to reciprocate the things he’s doing to her.

“Touch yourself for me,” she breathes out between two strangled moans.

The twirls of his tongue stop for a second, then continue with a little more composure as his hands leave her sides. The familiar sound of a fly opening and the ruffling of jeans echo in the room, and Rey feels a little smile curl her lips when it becomes clear he’s filling her request. Her hands still feel rather empty, so she plunges them into his dark waves and holds onto it as he keeps making her head spin with every thrust. She can feel his right arm moving frantically, faster, faster, and she’s even more aroused than before. It doesn’t take long for her legs to feel like jelly, and soon, it’s more than she can handle alone.

“Come back here.” She finds her voice rather authoritarian as she speaks, but also finds that she likes it. “I want to feel you.”

Once again, Ben obeys. His mouth leaves her in the blink of an eye, but doesn’t move too far away. She can feel how wet his lips are as they start planting kisses along her thighs. Her arms are next, then her shoulders; and just when his mouth starts focusing on her neck, his hands are back on her hips and she’s pressed between the wall, his chest and the biggest erection she’s ever seen.

“Can I…?”

It takes her a moment to look away and realize what he’s asking. His eyes are finally back on her, looking up from the edge of her collarbones where the hint of a love bite is starting to show. His lips close around her skin again and he gives it a small nibble, asking for permission she’s happy to grant. A smirk appears on his mouth as his hands move to the front of her dress where he starts undoing the buttons leading to her waist. In just a few seconds, the fabric pools around her, exposing her skin to the cold air of the room.

“Oh, I love this one.” Both his hands are back on her waist, but his eyes seem unable to part from the navy bra concealing her breasts.

There’s something immensely satisfying in the way his fingers trace the small lacy curves. The way he looks at her, though, is different; it’s close to worship, and Rey isn’t sure someone has ever looked at her like that. And maybe there’s something happening right now in this laundry room, because she also isn’t sure her heart has ever drummed this hard.

Ben breaks eye contact first, but she doesn’t dwell on it too much; especially not when his face disappears again, but this time in her cleavage. He doesn’t seem tired of using his lips: several kisses land on her skin, sometimes alternated with brief suctions she didn’t think she would love so much. It’s only a matter of seconds before his hand pushes the fabric a little, making way for his mouth to find her nipple and close around it. Another gasp leaves her, and her hands leave his hair with a start.

He’s within reach this time, and she’s not about to pass the opportunity to return the gesture. Clumsily, she fumbles her way to the short space between them until she feels him and _damn, he really is huge_. His teeth graze her skin as her fingers wrap around his cock, and she knows from the seconds it take him to get back to the task he’s assigned himself that she’s doing it right. The muffled moan he produces when she starts pumping is a good hint too, and only encourages her to keep going.

“Rey--”

“Shh.”

She can feel his smile on her skin as she silences him the same way he did earlier. He almost lets out a chuckle, but her grip tightens a little, her pumping accelerate, and all that leaves him is a lewd moan that makes her smile as well.

Her legs are practically trembling by the time his mouth move to her other breast. His breathing is rather shuddered as well, and he’s not long to stop her with a hand on her wrist. “I’m gonna--” Another moan. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing-- this.”

Her movements slow down a little, but not completely. “And you don’t want to?”

“Not like this.”

There’s a short silence during which Rey suddenly wonders if she’s doing it wrong. Maybe she misinterpreted? She’s pretty sure she didn’t, but she hasn’t done it in months. Her last time was a shitty booty call that wasn’t even satisfying, and even then, she’d felt rather rusty. Ben has probably seen more women than she can think of. Better ones. Prettier. His lips find hers again and he gives her a quick kiss that feels rather different than the previous ones and stops her spiraling thoughts.

It’s soft and intense, and leaves her breathless when he pulls away for air. She can feel the taste he left on her-- something that tastes like both of them, something that shouldn’t be so dizzying but still is. His eyes are fixed on her when he speaks again, his voice low and barely composed. “More like… this.”

His hands move down to her thighs and he pulls her on more time until she feels his erection grazing her entrance. Her hips jerk instinctively at the contact but her legs wrap around his waist in a soft motion and she grabs his shirt impatiently with another silent request. She’s not sure who exactly pulls it up his head: their hands fumble together in a messy attempt to rid him of the last piece of clothing separating them, and a few buttons fall to the floor in the process. Luckily, Ben doesn’t seem to care and claims her lips before she can properly look at him, so she settles for a good old blind fondling as his tongue finds hers.

“Oh, _shit_.”

The words leave her before she can stop them, but Ben doesn’t seem to hear her. She’d been impressed by his hands, his fingers, his cock, but his _chest-_\- she could probably sharpen diamonds on that thing. Her fingers curiously trail down his muscles a few times, then up his neck and down again. Damn, he could probably crush her in a flash, and this shouldn’t sound arousing, but Rey finds herself even more eager to press her body against his and squeezes her legs around him in hopes to get him to close the gap between them.

It’s almost frustrating how little space he has left to close. His erection keeps brushing her in the most teasing way, as if he knows she can’t move any closer without running the risk to fall. Maybe he would catch her; she almost wants to try, but once again, Ben seems to read her mind and gives her lower lip a gentle nibble and lets his hands fall behind her.

“Like what?” Rey urges him. It draws a little smile out of him and his eyes fall on her.

“Like this.”

She can’t help the moan she makes when he finally pushes into her. The groan that leaves him certainly doesn’t help either, and both her hands grip at his shoulders for support when he does it again, this time deeper. He’s definitely bigger than anyone she’s ever known, and it takes a few seconds for her body to adjust to his presence; but when it does, the pleasure is like none before. It’s exhilarating, disorienting and overwhelming, and Rey wonders if they can stay like this forever because _this_ is how she always wants to feel.

“Fuck, Rey--”

Her name keeps falling from his lips every time he pushes in her; and every time, her fingers dig a little deeper in his shoulders. Just when she’s about to whisper something in his ear, a small beep echoes behind her and the drier’s vibration resume with greater intensity and drag an incomprehensible mumble out of her. It only encourages Ben to go faster, and harder, and deeper-- and within seconds of messy thrusts and clenches, she feels the fire in her abdomen exploding and her legs quivering around him as he works her through her orgasm. The drier, the open door, even the vibrations disappeared for a minute, leaving her with nothing but the feeling of Ben. Ben against her, Ben coming inside of her, Ben groaning in her ear, Ben kissing the crook of her neck as her mouth closes on his shoulder in hopes to muffle her moan.

It lasts a few seconds; a few seconds of delighting euphoria that makes her head spin and her breathing speed up. The drier finally slow down with a perfect synchronization as she regains control of her breathing then her body, and the rooms falls silent again. It’s the moment her brain chooses to wake up, and with it embarrassment about what just happened. She waits for Ben to make a move to let go of his shoulders, and bites her lips with shame.

“Well… I…”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t seem completely back yet: his voice is soft and low and he’s slightly out of breath. His eyes are still very dark though. Very fixed on her too, which doesn’t help with the blush creeping over her cheeks. He doesn’t look like he wants to move yet, but his hands leave her sides when a new silence settles in.

Rey is the first to break it when she clears her throat and speaks again. “Ok, I… I should leave.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ben agrees with a nod. “Laundry to fold.” He casually drops a thumb above his shoulder to point at the empty basket on the floor then adds, slightly less assured: “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

All wildness has left his face, and Rey wonders how he can possibly look feral one minute then so young the next. When she’s done with the buttons on her chest, she moves her legs to the side and jumps off the machine. “Sure.”

_Sure_. Of all the things she could’ve said, she’d chosen _sure_. Another wave of embarrassment hits her and she hurries to the door at the idea of Ben seeing her like this-- worse, realizing she’s not worth more than this. Not that she wants more. Or maybe she does? If the little pinch in her heart is any indication, she already likes him enough to want to repeat what just happened. Just for good measure, she turns and calls him as she reaches the door. “Ben?”

“Yes?”

He’s halfway through putting his jeans back on when his eyes meet hers again, and the look in them is full of hope and anticipation. It gives Rey the little shot of courage she needed to shoot him a smile. “Goodnight.”

She barely hears his answer as she climbs up the stairs leading to the hallway. Whatever this was leaves her speechless as she jumps into the elevator and, later, on her bed. Memories of his lips on her skin rush back every time she closes her eyes, and it takes her forever to fall asleep.

The day after, she finds an envelope pinned to her door with her panties inside and a hand-written note.

_Dinner at Maz’s tonight?_

_-Ben_

_PS: You forgot these._


End file.
